


Codas: Winter, Spring, and Summer

by kabigon



Series: Threads [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Coda, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabigon/pseuds/kabigon
Summary: Shoma is going to kill Nathan and bury him so deep no one will ever find the body to charge him with the crime.“I told them about you,” he’d said.“They came to visit and invited us to dinner,” he’d said.“They’ll love you,” he’d said.
Relationships: Nathan Chen/Shoma Uno
Series: Threads [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717336
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52





	Codas: Winter, Spring, and Summer

**Author's Note:**

> A series of short Nathan/Shoma codas. Meant to go with/supplement their story in my other fic [Wherever, Whenever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581510). Can be read as a standalone with minimal references to Wherever, Whenever but reading the other fic will provide a richer experience.

**Winter**

It’s kind of like going through a breakup except he’s not going through a breakup at all. Certainly the days on end where he doesn’t want to get out of bed and time melds together is probably the same. The not wanting to shower must be similar, and though Itsuki’s nose crinkle in mild disgust every time he gets a whiff of Shoma, Shoma just doesn’t care anymore. Yeah, that must be the same also. The lack of appetite for sure, and that one time he thought maybe a game would kick some motivation into him only for him to start crying over nothing too. Most days he just… he just wants to watch sad movies alone and cry a little. Or a lot. No, definitely a lot.

So maybe it’s more that it’s an end, Shoma closing this chapter of his life on his own quietly because Javi, the sweet, blissfully ignorant idiot that he is, never knew. Shoma had been stupid too, he supposes. Naive, others would say. Nathan, probably, with that stupid American nonchalant half-shrug thing he does. He’d been fool-hearted, sure, giving away his love faster than he could blink but Javi’s hands on his shoulders had felt warm and when his palms rested on the side of Shoma’s neck, cradling the back of his head they’d been welcoming. Javi was kind to him, an awkward seventeen year old boy who didn’t know how to talk to anyone.

He flops fully back onto the bed, kicking his sheets off of him. He has really lost this time, hasn’t he? Not like he had a chance before. Never, when Yuzuru was alive, but he thought… maybe…

Just the thought of it makes his stomach roil in disgust at himself. He’ll never say it out loud to anyone, never admit to it like he’ll never admit to a crime. But inside he’ll know the horrible, terrible truth. He’d felt hopeful after Yuzuru’s death had had time to pass them all, after they’d had time to remold their lives back into something functional without him. Shoma had been hopeful that now, maybe without Yuzuru’s shine Javi might, possibly, hopefully, take a look at him.

But he’d been a fool, that’s all. It’s time to let those dreams die. He’s… what, thirty three years old now? He’s thirty-three. Fifteen years chasing Javi, almost a decade hidden behind Yuzuru’s back and watching from afar, loving him quietly, silently and now he knows for sure. Yuzuru or no Yuzuru, Javi is out of his reach.

He’s lost completely, left decimated. And to a ten year old boy of all people. Shoma can’t even hate him a little because-

Because the first time he saw Shoma, walking into the rink hand in hand with Javi, his entire face had lit up and he’d ran to Shoma all the while screaming Shoma’s name excitedly, one long drawn out cry, throwing himself into Shoma full force, all four and a half feet of him wrapped around him. Grinning, delighted, he’d looked up at Shoma and said to him, “Congrats on winning Worlds, Shoma. You were so good. The best! Shoma, two-time world champion!” More than with Javi, more than with Nathan or Itsuki or Stephane or anyone else, Yuzu’s words had warmed his soul, and it had felt almost like an old friend speaking to him.

In the moment though, he’d frozen up like a deer caught in headlights. Of course he did because well… he doesn’t always have the most open of faces - resting bitch face, as Jason would say - and children don’t usually approach him much less talk to him. He wasn’t lying when he told Javi he didn’t know what to do with children. Now that camp’s over he’s not even sure he actually learned how to talk to one properly. In comparison to Javi who is so good with all of them Shoma might as well have been nothing more than a bit of hay in a pile of more hay.

Shoma sighs and rolls back onto his side. There’s really no denying it anymore, he thinks, not when Yuzu has already marked Javi has his, boldly proclaiming to everyone in the rink that he’s going to marry Javier Fernandez. He had sounded so sure of himself too, and Shoma knew that spirit. It had lived within Yuzuru too.

And Javi… the way Javi looks at Yuzu… it’s not romantic. Of course it’s not. Yuzu is ten. Javi looks at Yuzuru Minami in the way Shoma has only ever seen him look at Yuzuru Hanyu. Like romantic or not romantic doesn’t even really matter. Like their souls are bound together. Like eventually in the end, no matter how long it takes, he’s going to cave to Yuzu. Whatever he wants Javi is going to give it to him.

Yuzu and Javi… they’re inevitable now. A foregone conclusion because Yuzu won't let them not be. Shoma can tell. It’s all in the eyes. All that's left is to watch it play out. So he can let go of a dream that was meant to be nothing more than a dream or he can stay where he's at and wallow in self-pity the rest of his life.

He heaves a sigh and finally gets out of bed. He tosses the curtains open and the light that shines through is blinding but it feels warm against his skin.

**Spring**

Shoma is going to kill Nathan and bury him so deep no one will ever find the body to charge him with the crime.

“I told them about you,” he’d said.

“They came to visit and invited us to dinner,” he’d said.

“They’ll love you,” he’d said.

What actually happens when they finally meet in front of the restaurant is that Shoma resists the urge to bow instinctively out of respect and Nathan’s parents resist the urge to gawk at him. In shock, he presumes, and Shoma suspects it’s nothing to do with the fact that he’s Shoma Uno and more to do with the fact that he’s a man. Pretty sometimes, but still very much a man.

“Mom, Dad,” Nathan begins brightly, blissfully ignorant of the mood. “This is the person I’m dating. Shoma Uno. You know him.”

Know _of_ him, probably, and that they’re friends. Not that Shoma is the person Nathan is dating.

Of the two Nathan’s dad recovers first, clearing his throat before he speaks. “Yes, yes. Sorry. Hello. My name is Zhidong Chen. And my wife,” he says, gesturing to her with an open palm, “Nathan’s mother. Hetty Wang.”

Shoma nods briefly once, twice, and then says to them, “Nice to meet you.”

Dinner goes better than he expects. Nathan’s parents are polite, at least. Engaging. And they never shut Shoma out. Any awkward silence that creeps in Nathan kills with an ever present stream of talk, update on his job and the hospital, telling his parents about Shoma and how great he is and how far along he’s come in getting certified to be a tech specialist and how he’s so proud.

Nathan’s mom says after, “Oh? I don’t see a lot of skaters become tech specialists. More coaches. And choreographers. Why tech specialist, Shoma?”

She doesn’t sound condescending, merely curious so Shoma tells her honestly, “Cannot be coach because I am bad at talking to people.”

She blinks, and then she blinks, and then she laughs, this merry twinkle that reminds Shoma of his own mother. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be a great specialist.”

The conversation moves on with Nathan’s hand on his thigh, a reassuring gesture and presence that Shoma goes back to again and again when he starts to feel anxious. But on the ride home Shoma picks up Nathan’s hand and gently sets it aside. When Nathan rests his hand on Shoma’s thigh again not a second later, Shoma picks it up and sets it aside again. After the third time, Nathan asks inquisitively, “Babe?”

He answers cooly. “I am mad at you.”

“What? Why?”

“You say you told parents about me.”

“I did!”

“You not say whole truth. You not tell them you have boyfriend.”

“Oh come on. What year is it? That kind of stuff doesn’t matter anymore.”

Shoma shakes his head. “Always matters to parents, Nathan.”

“I promise you it doesn’t.”

“I am still mad at you,” he says. “You can sleep on couch tonight.”

The rest of the drive back to Brooklyn is quiet with Shoma staring out the window, watching all the people and lights pass by. Still, he thinks he’s the only one who’s worked up. He steals glances at Nathan and Nathan is unchanging. No fire in his eyes, no annoyance in his jaw, and suddenly Shoma feels silly and immature. It wasn't that big of a deal but now he feels he can't back down.

Before bed, when he hands Nathan his pillow and the carefully folded spare blanket, Nathan only sighs, accepting them but doesn’t leave before he kisses the top of Shoma’s head good night.

“They love you,” Nathan murmurs into his hair.

“You think so?” Shoma is still unsure.

“Yeah.”

“I hope so,” Shoma admits. “I want your parents to like me.”

He tosses and turns in bed without Nathan, can’t get used to the open space on the other side of the bed. He sighs and checks his phone again. The time -- 11:11 -- glares back at him. Only ten minutes since the last time he checked. Maybe a glass of water will help, calm him down a little, smooth out the hint of an itch under his skin.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but once he walked into it he couldn’t stop.

Nathan’s mom, on speaker phone, “So you’re gay?”

He hears Nathan sigh, and then, “No, mom.”

“But you’re not straight.”

“Probably not.”

“Bisexual?”

Shoma can practically see Nathan’s carefree shrug in his mind. “Eh.”

Indignant, impatient, “Nathan Wei Chen!”

Sweetly, all grin, Shoma is sure. “Yes, mother?”

The woman sighs. “Nathan, sweetie… it’s okay if you’re gay or bisexual or whatever. I’d just like to know.”

“Oh god, I can’t believe Shoma was right about this.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nathan says, brushing off the question quickly. “Mom, I get maybe you want to know but I just don’t care about figuring it out. Shoma makes me happy. Gay. Not gay. Bisexual or whatever. Labeling me isn’t going to change that, you know?”

There’s silence and Shoma holds his breath, tense, scared of what Nathan’s mom will say, breathing out a sigh when he hears her tell Nathan, “You’re right. If you’re happy then as your mother I am happy for you. I love you, Nathan.”

“Thanks, mom. I love you, too," Nathan says genuinely, and again, Shoma is taken aback by how easily they say words like “love” here in this country.

“I’ll let you go to sleep now. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

The line dies, the phone clinks against the coffee table when Nathan sets it down and Shoma waits a few, quiet comments to collect his thoughts, to calm his emotions because he doesn't want to appear a mess in front of Nathan even though he's sure by now Nathan must know how much of a mess he really is inside. Under his cold exterior he's nothing more than anxiety and self-doubt.

And, probably the real truth, he doesn't want Nathan to know he'd been eavesdropping. By accident. _Accident._ He'll take that to his grave.

When he hears Nathan groan and then toss and toss and toss, trying to find a comfortable position for his back, a smile creeps on Shoma's face. It's a horrible couch. Terrible. Lumpy and old. Ugly too. The worst part of it is that the leather sticks to skin the moment there's even a hint of sweat. No one knows why Nathan has kept it for so long. Probably because it'd been easier than getting a new one.

He creeps quietly to Nathan but he hadn't needed to. There was no way Nathan would be able to fall asleep on that couch so soon. He didn't really need to sleep out here. Shoma would have let him back into bed even without groveling.

"Nathan," he whispers, taking one of Nathan's hands into his.

"Yeah?" Nathan whispers back.

"Come to bed."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"'Kay."

They tiptoe through the dark together back to the bedroom, Shoma leading the way with Nathan's hand still in his.

**Summer**

By the time they make it back to Nathan's tiny apartment Shoma is about ready to throw himself face first into bed. Years of traveling and still flights tire him out. Madrid to New York City isn't even that long. Certainly not as long as Japan is to New York City but still. Maybe it'd been the heat in Madrid. All that sun. Too much, if he's honest. At least here in New York he can hide under a skyscraper or something. And the river. The river is nice too. He could sit by the river and enjoy a nice sandwich while the wind floated by to cool his body.

After he's done unpacking, shoving all his clothes into the dirty pile regardless of whether or not they were actually dirty, he hears Nathan call for him.

"What?" He shouts from the bedroom.

"Come here," Nathan shouts back from the living room.

"Why?"

"Just come!"

Shoma looks at the bed longingly but a moment after groans and makes his way back to the living room where he sees Nathan on one knee offering him a ring. He would gasp if he could. Like an idiot he freezes and stares, and stares, and stares.

"Um..." Nathan begins, clearly unsure where to start. "I love you," he says. "And I want to be with you. I really, really want to marry you. I don't care how we do it Shoma. Some fancy ceremony in Japan I won't understand or like a western wedding with a crap ton of people. I really, really don't care. Hell, I'd be happy to marry you in a courthouse if you'd let me." He pauses a little here, a tiny little shrug, a tilt of his head, a shy smile that eases its way into Shoma's heart. "Please. Please marry me."

Someone chokes and a second later Shoma realizes it's him. His throat feels tight, his heart is rapid, and... are those tears in his eyes? Really? He hardly cries over anything.

Nathan is next to him in an instant, cupping his cheeks and rubbing away his tears. "Hey, no," he urges quietly. "Don't do that. The speech wasn't _that_ good."

That gets a scoff out of Shoma who pushes Nathan's hands away to wipe away his own tears. "You are idiot," he says, and then gentler, "I am idiot too, for crying."

"So?" Nathan asks, hopeful look in his eyes.

"Yes," Shoma breathes out. "I want to marry you too. But we have Japanese ceremony."

"Anything you want," Nathan says amiably, slipping the ring onto Shoma's finger. "I almost got you silver."

Shoma shoots him a death glare and begins to retract his hand. Nathan holds on tight with a laugh, sliding the ring on the rest of the way.

"I thought maybe this time gold would be better."

"Gold is better," Shoma confirms. "Gold is always better."

"Well, I happen to have a lot of golds."

Shoma nods. "When we are married, what is yours is also mine, yes?"

"Of course."

"So Olympic Gold is mine."

"If you want it you're definitely gonna have to marry me."

Fully committed, no desire to go back, "I want it."

**Heatwave**

Nathan fucks into him with a groan, a swift thrust that splits him open and has him keening in pleasure, a hand shooting up and over to tangle in Nathan’s mess of curls.

“Oh my God,” Nathan says breathlessly into the side of his neck. “How are you still so tight? We’ve been fucking all day.”

Shoma hardly registers, answers without thought. “Don’t know. Don’t know but please do not stop. _Nathan.”_

“I won’t,” Nathan promises, pulling halfway out before forcing himself all the way in again. Shoma lets out a cry, his hand tightening around Nathan’s curls and tugging at them painfully. It sets off a groan in Nathan who always liked a bit of pain, kicks him into full gear, and suddenly he’s fucking into Shoma with sharp, quick thrusts like his life depends on it. The heat builds in him, in them, Nathan biting a bruise into the line of his shoulder, his nails digging indents into Shoma’s hips. Shoma too, one hand in Nathan’s hair, the other trying to find purchase on the marble kitchen counters.

He’s riding the line, close to tipping over when Nathan mumbles next to his ear, “I’m gonna come.”

“In me,” Shoma insists. _“Come in me.”_

“Yes,” Nathan hisses out, a burst of quick erratic thrusts, and then one hand is on the back of his neck pushing Shoma down so that he can watch himself push another load deeper and deeper and deeper into Shoma.

Before he can even breathe properly again he’s flipping Shoma over, dropping down onto his knees and swallowing Shoma whole. It doesn’t take much - a few swallows with a tight throat, a heated exchange of eyes - and Shoma is tipping his head back and coming into Nathan’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading.
> 
> As stated in the other fic, if any part of this fic inspires you to write a more fleshed out Nathan/Shoma, please do it. There is no need to even ask permission at this point because I want it so much.


End file.
